Hand Me Down
by I Write Tragedies
Summary: HBP spoilers. Albus Dumbledore does not receive all of his power from his natural abilities...


**Title:** Hand Me Down  
**Main Characters:** Albus Dumbledore  
**Ships:** None.  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Genres:** General  
**Length:** 979 words  
**Summary:** HBP spoilers. Albus Dumbledore does not receive all of his power from his natural abilities... Takes place the night before _he_ leaves with clears throat to go... there.

**Hand Me Down**  
**Albus Dumbledore**

Twilight had descended on the horizon, streaking the sky with the resplendent shades of colour that the sun induces the sky to create. From the single window in the room, Albus Dumbledore watched as night slowly enveloped the land. The flickering flames on the candlewicks in the girandoles caused the shadows in his quarters to waver and at the same moment to suffuse his surroundings in a warm glow. As he stood there, watching the sunset, which he found that he rarely had time to do any longer, he found the tips of his long fingers on his right hand gently rubbing the material of his robes over a hidden pocket. He smiled softly to himself as he watched the colours in the sky lose their brilliance as the sun sank slightly lower.

Albus softly patted the pocket, and turned to face the empty room. He walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress as he reached into the folds of his robes. He glanced down to the place where he knew the hand was concealed in its location. There was no outline and he could just barely feel it for it was rather light, but he knew it was there. He slipped his fingers into the pocket and carefully swept them over the hard, withered surface of the hand. Then he reached further in, wrapped his hand around the wrist, and pulled it out into the open so that he could look at it. He had had it for several decades but he never tired of looking at it, admiring it, touching it. He could feel the subtle vibration of power undulating from the relic. He had received it a mere fortnight before he had come up against Grindelwald. With the very hand that he now held, cradled in between his two hands, he had defeated one of the greatest dark wizards of his time.

There were many stories told about what had happened to Merlin's remains after he had passed away, but not one of them was true. Albus was one of the few wizards that was blessed with a fraction of the truth. A group of wizards calling themselves The Enders had waited precisely a decade after Merlin's death. Then, on the tenth anniversary of the exact day that he had died, they went to his tomb under the shroud of night to gather his remains and take them away where they could preserve his body's magical properties. As everyone knew, Merlin was the greatest wizard to have ever existed. Not only was he incredibly powerful, he was also a very amiable, assiduous, and wise man. All of his character traits and abilities had combined to create something so intense and rare that had The Enders not realised what could be done with Merlin's remains, his body very well might never have decomposed properly. He had lived well over three hundred years ago, which meant that the hand that Albus held in his should have been reduced to ash and small fragments of bone centuries ago.

No one knew exactly how The Enders had come upon the knowledge that Merlin's corpse was not ordinary. It was assumed by some that Merlin had told them so that he would be able to aid future wizards with the remnants of his power. Others, however, believed that The Enders were prophets and had foreseen what they could do to utilise the power so that future generations would be able to use it to help the wizarding community prosper. As for Albus, he decided not to accept any theory as the truth and instead thanked The Enders for their ingenuity. All that was important was that The Enders had been nearly as clever as Merlin and had been able to come up with a way to age Merlin's remains just enough so that they could successfully remove his limbs without them disintegrating. A skeleton is a very fragile thing but Merlin's, due to the traces of his power remaining with his body long after his soul had gone, was virtually indestructible. Albus himself had tried many times to damage it for the sake of seeing if it were possible, but everything he tried deflected off the hand, leaving no mark behind that he had done anything at all to it.

Albus gazed down at it with fondness. He owed this artefact a great deal. His reputation had been constructed on acts that he would not have been able to accomplish had he not been privileged to have a piece of Merlin's remains. As long as he kept the hand with him, he would always be stronger than any wizard alive, even Tom. That did not mean that the hand made him immortal, merely less susceptible to curses and jinxes. Additionally, he was given clarity of mind and traces of clairvoyance, for Merlin himself had had an exceptional insight into the people and world around him and sensitivity to sensing future events. All of these things had culminated to create Albus's most cherished treasure.

'_And after tonight, it will no longer be mine. I must hand over the torch, the reigns, the power to a much worthier wizard.'_

It was time. Albus rose to his feet and gave the hand a last cursory glance before he slipped it into the depths of his robes where he slid it into the hidden pocket. Then he walked across the room, to the door that led out into his office. It would be a long, arduous journey for everyone but only one person deserved the chance to make it to the end of the war. Tonight would be the night he would give to Harry the only other weapon he would need to help aid him in finding and destroying the remaining Horcruxes and, consequently, _his_ first adversary.


End file.
